Life As Lowery
by Lord Kristine
Summary: This is the story of Lowery Cruthers. This is how he learned what he knows. This is why he feels the way he feels. This is how it all began.
1. Childhood

"Come on, fellas, you wouldn't hit a kid with glasses, would you?"

Lowery backs up, only to find a solid brick wall behind him. A circle of bullies closes in on him like a pride of lions would close in on a particularly scrawny antelope. They look like they're enjoying the hunt.

"Time's up, Cruthers. Give us your money, or else!"

Lowery smirks.

"Wow, a bully after lunch money? How original. You gonna give me a wedgie next?"

One of the kids holds him against the wall by the throat.

"Watch it, twerp."

"Ach-ach! You got it," Lowery chokes.

The bully lets him go.

"Alright, loser. Fork it over," the head bully growls.

Lowery gulps and reaches into his pocket. Slowly, he takes out five dollars and folds back the bills one by one.

"Well, it looks like there's three of you, so if you wanna divide it evenly, you're out of luck. Maybe you'd better skip the whole thing and just let me keep-"

The head bully snatches his cash away with a quick swipe of his hand.

"We'll take it all, twerp."

Lowery feels dismayed, until he comes up with a brilliant idea. He pushes his glasses up his nose and gives a coy smile.

"Well, you'll never have it _all_ , since the rest is buried in a secret place."

Lowery tries to suppress a snigger as he detects a hint of interest in the bullies' eyes.

"What did you say, twerp?" a short boy hisses.

Lowery puts his hands in his pockets casually. He rocks back and forth on his feet, pretending that he's trying his best to cover up a secret.

"Oh, it's nothing. I have the rest of my money buried in a special place. I come from a family of gypsies, so we have lots and lots of gold coins. We bury all of our money under bridges to stop the pirates from stealing it."

Lowery gasps and puts his hand over his mouth innocently.

"Oops."

The head bully sneers.

"His gold is under the old bridge!"

Lowery shrugs.

"Well, you caught me. I guess you won't be needing that five bucks anymore . . ."

"We're keeping everything!" one of the boys sneers.

Lowery rolls his eyes.

"Alright, I didn't want to do this, but I guess I'll have to tell the teacher. She's gonna be real mad that you stole from me. She might even call your parents. Then the Feds get involved, and it's all downhill from there."

The head bully shoves the money against Lowery's chest.

"Take your stupid paper. Once we find that gold, we'll hide it somewhere secret so no one ever finds it. Including _you_."

Lowery nods.

"Yeah, that kind of goes without saying."

Giving him one last punch for good measure, the head bully makes his way down the road, undoubtedly walking towards the old bridge. His cronies follow, eager to share the nonexistent fortune. Lowery puts his money back in his pocket and laughs deviously. He knew that the kids in his class weren't particularly bright, but this is a whole new level of stupid. It would be easy, very easy, to con some of them out of a few bucks. Then he would have extra spending money, and the bullies would get what they deserve. There was literally no downside to his plan!

Well, unfortunately for Lowery, his mother doesn't seem too thrilled with his idea. She sits him down on her knee and gives him a serious look.

"Lowery, baby, you're very clever, but you have to remember to use your gifts wisely. Even if those kids have it coming, you can't stoop down to their level to get what you want. If you have the chance to be good, take it. There's no use in being a huckster. It brings you nothing but trouble."

Lowery frowns.

"But it'd be so easy, Mama!"

She nods.

"I know. The easiest way to get something done is usually the worst way. Don't use your talent for evil, Lowery."

He frowns bitterly.

"Well, it's certainly not doing me any good right now. I get picked on all the time."

His mother pats his head.

"I called your teacher. She'll deal with it. In the meantime, don't go picking fights. You have a tendency to say the wrong thing when you aren't careful. That's gonna get you into trouble someday, I guarantee."

Lowery snorts.

"Well, I'm just joking around."

His mother shakes her head.

"You'll learn very soon that there are certain people who don't understand your sense of humor. Don't take things too far, and whatever you do, _think_ before speaking."

Lowery yawns.

"Sure, Mom. Whatever."

She flicks him on the nose.

"I'm serious, Lowery. You take after your father. He's always putting his foot in his mouth. It's good to be witty, but you have to remember that some people can't take a joke."

Lowery grins.

"I'm sure if I'm funny enough, they'll be able to take it just fine."

He grunts as his mother flicks him on the nose again.

"Lowery, don't be petulant. You listen to your mama. I know what I'm talking about. I've lived life. I know how everything works. I'm giving you good advice."

Lowery shrugs.

"I just don't see why I can't be funny. It's kind of my shtick."

His mother puts her hands on her hips.

"You can tell jokes, chickie, but don't forget to be serious sometimes. You need to respect authority. Nobody likes a smartmouth."

"You mean smartass?"

She cuffs him.

"Watch your language!"

Lowery whines.

"I was only joking . . ."

His mother sighs and turns her eyes to the ceiling.

"Oh, lord. What'll I do with this child of mine?"


	2. Adolescence

Lowery has built a lemonade stand. He's a little too old to be trying stunts like this, but he looks younger than he is, and he really wants to buy a Nintendo. His primary strategy is pity. He's taped the front of his glasses, and one of the letters on his sign is written backwards so that people will think he's too dumb to rip them off. He considered claiming that all the funds go to charity, but decided against it. That was definitely not morally sound.

Around eleven, Lowery gets his first customer. Actually, the man is walking straight past him, but every person has the potential to buy. Lowery puts on his most innocent smile and calls out to him.

"Thir? Would you like to buy thome lemonade?"

Maybe the lisp was too much. It seemed to catch the man's attention, anyway.

"How much?"

"Five dollars."

"For a glass? Kid, that's way too much."

"Well, my prices are adjusted for inflation."

The man rolls his eyes and starts to walk away. Lowery cuts him off.

"You know, this walk would be a lot more pleasant if you had something to drink . . ."

"It would be even more pleasant if you could stay out of my way."

The man pushes past Lowery. Seeing a golden opportunity, he pretends to fall down. He lies in the grass, sniffling, and rubs his eyes.

"You pushed me!"

The man backs away nervously as Lowery starts to bawl. As his volume increases, the man reaches into his wallet and pulls out twenty dollars.

"Take this and shut up."

Lowery grabs the money, snapping out of his fake weeping spell.

"Your patronage is greatly appreciated."

Grinning mischievously, Lowery takes a seat at his table and admires his earnings. This will definitely put a dent in his purchase. He can't believe his good luck. Even so, he feels a little strangely about it. Was that technically a con? The man was being kind of rude, but not rude enough to be malicious. Lowery had exaggerated his fall to trick him. Does that mean he's technically in the wrong?

Lowery sits at his table with a somber mien. He's still debating the morality of what he's done long after the man is out of sight. Although he can't pinpoint the exact reason for his inner conflict, he's really torn up about the issue. If he had enough of an imagination to create shoulder angels, they'd be at each other's throats. Finally, he can take it no more. He packs up his lemonade stand and opens the garage.

A few minutes later, Lowery is speeding down the street on his scooter. He really loves his scooter because the wheels are made of transparent green rubber, like something out of a sci-fi movie. He gets teased by the kids who ride bikes, but he pays them no mind. He likes being his own brand of cool, even if it happens to be what the other kids call "lame".

Lowery parks his scooter by the grocery store and jogs inside, still wearing his helmet. He tries to ignore the candy and trading cards that he usually buys. Instead, he makes his way to the back of the store where the UNICEF volunteers are usually stationed. Sure enough, they're sitting by their bucket with bored expressions. It's been a slow day, obviously. Lowery takes the twenty dollars out of his pocket and drops it in the pot before he can change his mind.

The volunteers thank him for his donation, but he doesn't stick around to acknowledge them. He still feels guilty about taking the money in the first place. When he steps outside, however, he realizes that he has bigger problems. A bunch of kids are standing around his scooter. He recognizes them from school. They aren't exactly what he'd call "friends". They see him coming and smile maliciously.

"Look who's here. It's Flowery Lowery!"

Gulping nervously, Lowery reaches for his scooter.

"Flowery Lowery is going to ride his loser-mobile!" one of the kids snorts.

"Wow. I'll bet it took you all week to think of that insult," Lowery mutters.

"What did you say, punk?"

Lowery smirks.

"So, I'm a punk now? Well, that's a step up from loser . . ."

"Watch it, smartass."

With a quick step, Lowery manages to dart to the side and speed away on his scooter. As he glides down the street, he turns his head and calls out to his not-friends.

"Adios, booger-brains!"

Lowery thinks he's really clever, until he realizes that the kids are pursuing him. This wouldn't be a problem in any other situation, but his house just happens to be on top of a very steep hill. He tries to roll up the slope as fast as he can, but the kids are faster than him, even on foot. When he slows to a stop, he holds up his hands defensively.

"Hey, guys. What's happ- URK!"

One of the kids grabs him by the collar.

"You called us booger-brains."

"Did I?" Lowery mumbles, "I don't seem to recall-"

A blow to the stomach silences him. He looks up weakly, his glasses dangling off one ear.

"Okay, you got me. What's next? A wedgie? A swirly?"

The funny thing about children is that they are very good at hurting each other. Adults can often forget just how brutal they can be, because schoolyard violence takes place when they're not around. With no legal ramifications to worry about, kids have nothing to lose by harming their peers. Not only can they physically hurt one another, but they can come up with fiendishly clever ways to abuse each other mentally. Children are capable of doing terrible things.

In the long run, Lowery would have preferred a bloody nose to a broken scooter.


	3. Youth

Lowery is sitting in his hunk-of-junk car with a girl named Ernesta Christopherson. His situation? The same as billions of teenagers. His odds of success? Significantly less than pretty much anyone on the planet. He hasn't even been able to put his arm around her, so anything more is probably out of the question. Lowery would like to believe that she's a prude, but the truth is, he's kind of a dork. Ernesta is his first girlfriend, and she's only dating him out of pity. Lowery wishes that he could be smooth and suave, but while his words are clever, he lacks the finesse to pull off any good stunts. It's hard for a person to be romantic when they feel like a dweeb.

Ernesta looks around awkwardly. Lowery realizes that he has no excuse for parking his car on the side of the road. She's probably guessed what he's up to. Quickly, Lowery comes up with a cock-and-bull story.

"My grandma died here."

Well, shit. If Lowery had even a fragment of a chance before, he's definitely killed it now. Ernesta stares at him with wide eyes, unsure of how to react.

"Oh . . . my god . . . I'm so sorry . . ."

Lowery gulps.

"I always stop here to honor her memory. She meant a lot to me."

Ernesta bites her lip.

"How did she die?"

"Car accident. She hit a patch of black ice and rolled into the ditch."

Ernesta looks out the window.

"Gosh, that's awful."

Lowery taps his fingers on the steering wheel.

"We, uh . . . We don't have to stay long."

Ernesta shakes her head quickly.

"I don't want to get in the way of your mourning."

Lowery waves his hand.

"Naw, it's fine. The anniversary of her death was a few days ago, so I got it all out of my system then."

Ernesta frowns.

"But it's summer . . ."

"Yeah?"

"You said she hit a patch of ice."

Lowery blinks.

"Yeah, well, that was before global warming," he mutters, "Anyway, you wanna go stargazing?"

Not waiting for an answer, Lowery drives away from his fake grandmother's crash site and speeds down the highway. When the awkwardness seems to have (mostly) melted away, he pulls into a field and opens the sunroof.

"The stars are really bright tonight."

In hindsight, it was a bad idea to speak before looking up. The sky is completely clouded over. Not that it matters, since Ernesta thinks he's being sarcastic. She's one of those people who can never tell when he's being genuine.

"There's nothing out here," she sighs, "Let's just go back into town."

Lowery gulps.

"We . . . uh . . . We don't have to go just yet, do we? It's really peaceful here, and I . . . um . . . I wanted to recite some poetry."

Ernesta narrows her eyes.

"Poetry?"

Lowery nods slowly.

"Yeah. Poetry. For you. Because I love you so much."

Ernesta's nose twitches.

"Alright. Go ahead."

"Hm?"

"Recite your poetry."

"The poetry I wrote for you?"

"Yes!"

Lowery rubs his neck nervously.

"Um, alright. Here it goes."

He takes a deep breath.

"My dear Ernesta, how I love your . . ."

Why couldn't she have a name with more rhymes?

". . . zesta. You're always happy and bright, and very much . . . alright. Your voice is like daisies, your smile is like sunshine . . . and you're super fine."

Ernesta stares at him blankly. Lowery clears his throat and looks away.

"Well, I'm not so good with words. English isn't my first language."

"It isn't?"

"No."

"What is, then?"

"My first language?"

"Yes!"

Lowery thinks. Finnish! No, that sounds too implausible. Yiddish! That was even worse. French? Too hard to imitate. Lowery knows a bit of Spanish, so he goes with that.

"I speak Spanish. No estoy diciendo nada romántico. Esta frase no tiene ni siquiera la gramática correcta. Sólo estoy soltando mierda en este punto. Las vacas son todos los mutantes. Date prisa y tener sexo conmigo."

Ernesta cocks her head.

"What did you say?"

Lowery leans closer to her.

"I said that your eyes sparkle with the light of a thousand stars. Your love warms my heart every day. I wouldn't want to live life without you. You are my one true love."

After a moment, Ernesta smiles.

"You really said all of that?"

Lowery grins.

"Would I lie?"

And then, he blows it. He leans forward and tries to give her a kiss. Ernesta shifts to the side rapidly.

"Lowery, no."

"Why not?"

"I'm not ready."

"You look ready."

Lowery doesn't register the fact that he's been slapped until Ernesta gets out of the car and storms away. Composing himself, he turns the key in the ignition and makes a u-turn. He drives beside Ernesta slowly.

"Where are you going? We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Piss off."

Lowery gulps.

"You can't go back alone. You'd be walking for miles."

"I'll hitchhike."

"With some random stranger? Isn't that dangerous?"

"No more dangerous than getting back in the car with you."

Ignoring the sting of her words, Lowery takes a deep breath.

"Just let me give you a ride home."

"No."

"I promise, I won't try anything."

Ernesta growls bitterly and marches around the car. She sits down beside him and crosses her arms.

"Take me home. No stops, no shortcuts."

Lowery nods in defeat.

"Okay."

He drives back into town, heading straight for Ernesta's house. When they arrive, he parks the car and sighs.

"You know, I didn't actually _do_ anything."

Ernesta scowls at him. Lowery shrugs.

"I mean, we've been dating for a while, so I just assumed-"

Before he can finish, she steps out of the car and slams the door loudly. Lowery rolls down the window.

"We're still on for Monday, right?"

She enters her house without looking back. Lowery rubs his forehead.

"Yeah, I didn't think so."


	4. Manhood

Lowery stumbles after a grungy worker as he marches through a noisy construction site. A cacophony of shrill beeps and deep growls fills the air, as well as several pounds of dry, lifeless dust, which would make asthmatics shudder. Lowery coughs noisily and steps in front of his target, trying his best to look intimidating (and failing miserably).

"Excuse me, sir, but you really can't do this. Do you know how many acres of jungle you're destroying?"

"Look, buddy, I'm not in charge here," the man grumbles with aggravation, "You're gonna have to take it up with my boss, okay?"

The man pushes past Lowery, who growls and balls his hands into fists. Obviously, he's going to have to find the head honcho of this operation. Scanning the area, Lowery marches up to a man with a clipboard, because people with clipboards always seem to be in charge.

"Hey, you!" Lowery shouts, "What do you think you're doing?"

The man rolls his eyes.

"You have no right to complain. The Bribri gave us permission to proceed with our project, so that's precisely what we're going to do. You can't go back on our contract."

Lowery frowns deeply, his mustache twitching with rage.

"This isn't about the contract. You're destroying the natural beauty of this island."

The man rubs his forehead.

"Don't play the victim. The tribe knew what was going to happen when they agreed to have this land developed. We gave you what you wanted. It was a fair trade."

Lowery pulls the man closer.

"I'm not asking you to go against your word. I'm asking you to show a little respect."

The man yanks his arm away.

"You can hug these trees all you want, but a deal's a deal. This land is ours," he hisses.

"This land belongs to no one," Lowery insists.

"It does now."

Lowery fumes as the man struts away pompously. One of his Bribri friends walks up to him, sighing sadly.

"Give it up, amigo. The man is right. We signed away our land, and now it's theirs."

Lowery gulps.

"But this is our home . . ."

His friend shakes his head.

"Home isn't a patch of land. Home is family. You can't put a price on that."

Lowery feels his heart burning with contempt.

"But where will we go?"

"It doesn't matter, so long as we're together. There are many islands in the world."

"Islands which are in the process of being ravaged! By the time we find somewhere else to live, we'll be kicked out of that place, too."

"The world is changing. We might have to adapt."

"And what about the sacred land?" Lowery argues, "For generations, the Bribri have lived on this island, in the shadow of Mount Sibo. It's not just property: it's a principle."

His friend gazes at the misty mountain sadly.

"I know this hurts, Lowery. Don't think that I'm okay with this. Just understand that when all is said and done, we haven't lost what's really important."

Lowery is about to reply, but the clipboard man has returned. He shoots him one of those greasy, up-to-no-good business smiles and tilts his head to the side.

"May I have a word?"

Lowery lets himself be shepherded away from the construction site, if only to forget about the noise for a moment. The man brings him to an unfinished building and sits him down at a fold-out table. The erratic paint splashes on the floor disgust Lowery. The ground had once been full of life, and now, there was a hideous concrete monstrosity sitting on top of it.

"Mr. Cruthers, you've been living on this island for a very long time . . ."

"Just get to the point," Lowery snaps, "I don't give a shit about all of your political pretense. You and I both know where the other stands."

The man smiles knowingly.

"If you're really concerned about the island's preservation, we could offer you employment as someone who overlooks certain aspects of the park's creation. That way, you can make sure that we're working within reasonable boundaries. I can assure you, you'll have a significantly high-paying position."

Lowery frowns.

"You're throwing money at the problem again. I can't be bought that easily."

The man leans forward.

"Think of all the good you'd be doing. You could ensure that the heritage of this island is kept intact."

Lowery rubs his forehead.

"Yeah, okay, but why _me_?"

The man leans back in his chair.

"Well, we were going to offer the position to a native, but after careful consideration, we decided to approach you, because you're-"

"White?"

". . . more experienced in the realm of technology."

"A nerd, then."

The man tightens his lips.

"Mr. Cruthers, we're making you a very generous offer. You can take it or leave it."

Lowery hums.

"So, you're asking me to actively support the people who are destroying the ancestral home of my closest friends?"

"Yes," the man replies calmly, not wanting to argue any more.

Lowery snorts.

"Fine. Cool. I'll take it. I see nothing wrong with this picture," he says abruptly.

The man smiles pleasantly.

"Great. I look forward to working with you."

Lowery sputters as the man stands up and walks away. Quickly, he runs after him.

"Wait! Wait! I was being-"

The door slams, making Lowery jump.

". . . sarcastic . . ."

Lowery sits down tiredly and puts his head on the table. He considers his options, but none of them are looking too good at this point. Would it really be wise to sell out, even if it meant having a say in the fate of Isla Nublar? Lowery groans miserably, wishing he had never opened his big, fat mouth.

"Well, I guess I have a job now," he sighs in defeat.


	5. Adulthood

Lowery holds up a silver coin with a sly look on his face.

"Watch carefully. I'm going to make it disappear."

Beside him, Vivian rolls her eyes.

"I hope this doesn't turn out like your milk trick. I only have so many pairs of shoes . . ."

Lowery tightens his lips.

"Just watch the coin, okay?"

He waves his hands dramatically, rolling them over each other whilst making spooky magic sounds. Vivian watches him with her eyebrow lifted sardonically. Finally, Lowery opens his hands with a rapid flourish and makes a loud popping sound.

"Ta-dah! The coin is gone. I'm a wizard."

"It's between your fingers."

Lowery purses his lips.

"What? No, it isn't!"

Lowery flicks his hand backwards. Across the room, someone grunts in pain. Vivian shakes her head and turns back to her desk.

"Fine. You're a wizard. Nothing compares to your spooky witchcraft."

"Wizardcraft, technically. But I appreciate your input."

As Vivian goes back to work, Lowery leans forward and adjusts his plastic dinosaurs. Some of them still smell like coffee from the Great Spillage of '05. Turning a diplodocus to a certain angle, Lowery tilts his head whimsically. He really wishes he could get out more often and actually _see_ the dinosaurs he's in charge of. It's all well and good to watch a computer screen all day, but to actually be able to reach out and touch a living creature is another experience altogether.

When a familiar clicking sound echoes off the walls, Lowery sits upright and pretends to be working hard. He mimes flicking a few switches, and gives his keyboard an intense stare. Claire Dearing stops behind him, tapping her foot steadily.

"Your board isn't turned on. Nice try, though."

Lowery sighs and leans back in his chair.

"I was just taking a break."

"Well, that's what actual breaks are for," she sasses, "Don't slack off on the job. We're depending on you."

Lowery's face brightens.

"Really?"

"No, but if you screw up, I don't want to take the heat."

Lowery hums.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Claire turns to Vivian.

"Are you familiar with the man who sells jewelry on Main Street?"

Vivian twists her mouth.

"Enrique?"

"If you mean the funny mustache guy, then yes. Do you know if he can fix clasps?"

Vivian shrugs.

"Dunno. Why?"

Claire pulls a gold necklace out of her pocket.

"It's broken."

Lowery smirks.

"So, you decided to carry it around with you for mourning purposes?"

Claire frowns seriously.

"I'm fond of this necklace. I need it fixed as soon as possible."

Vivian nods.

"Right, well, you can ask Enrique about it."

Claire turns away.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't slack off, Lowery."

As Claire walks away, Lowery shoots Vivian a mocking glance.

"Yes, your majesty."

Claire wheels around.

"What did you say?"

Shit. How good was this woman's hearing? Lowery twiddles his fingers nervously as Claire stalks towards him.

"I will not tolerate sarcastic remarks, Mr. Cruthers."

"So, I'm Mr. Cruthers, now? Why do you always refer to people you hate by their last names?"

Claire sneers.

"Some people don't deserve to be treated amicably, especially if they refuse to show respect."

Lowery shrinks back in his chair.

"I was only joking, Claire. It's kind of my-"

"Be careful what you say, Lowery. It could get you into trouble."

He sighs.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Claire narrows her eyes menacingly.

"I don't doubt it."

Lowery gulps and stands up, nearly knocking over one of his dinosaurs.

"Look, let me make it up to you. I'll take your necklace to the-"

As he pulls the chain out of her hand, Claire gasps and makes a grab for it.

"Give it back," she whispers sternly, " _Give it back_."

Lowery holds it away from her grabbing hands.

"No, seriously, let me run the errand. I promise, I won't screw up."

Claire gives him a furious look that shows a trace of queasiness.

"Give it back. Now."

Lowery blinks.

"Why do you-"

"GIVE IT BACK!"

Her shouting attracts the attention of almost everyone in the room. Lowery holds out the necklace timidly, not wanting to cause a scene. Claire snatches it away, cradling it in her palm like it's the most precious object in the world. Lowery gulps and puts his hands in his pockets.

"I'm sorry, Claire, I-"

"If you ever do that again, I'll fire you."

Lowery gulps.

"I won't-"

Before he can finish, Claire whips around and marches out the door. Lowery sits down solemnly, ignoring the people who are still staring at him. Vivian gives him a sympathetic look.

"Don't bother trying to please her. It can't be done."

Lowery shakes his head.

"No, it's not her. It's me. I always end up offending people."

Vivian shrugs.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be so persistent."

Lowery hums.

"Yeah, maybe."

Just when it seems like they're going to go back to their separate jobs, Vivian gives him a curious look.

"Hey, did you notice something unusual about her arms?"

"Other than the fact that she was up in them?"

Vivian blinks.

"You know: up in arms. It's an expression," Lowery explains.

"I know, but I'm being serious. There was something really off about them."

"How so?"

"They just didn't look . . . normal."

Lowery hums.

"Well, I didn't get a good look at them. Maybe she's sunburned."

"Or seasick."

Lowery's mustache twitches in confusion.

"I don't think seasickness usually affects limbs. And why would she be seasick, anyway? Is she taking secret sailing classes?"

"You could ask Zara. She'd know."

Lowery twists his mouth.

"I was kidding."

"Mhm. I know. I was just playing along."

"Oh. I guess we both need to work on our communication skills, huh?"

"Yup."

For a moment, neither one of them speaks. Wanting to fill the silence, Lowery pulls out a coin and smiles.

"Did I ever show you-"

"Yeah, a few minutes ago."

"Right."


	6. Afterthoughts

Life has a funny way of turning for the worst when a person is feeling pretty good about themselves. Of course, the disaster at the park had caused Lowery an inordinate amount of stress, but as it just so happens, that was only the tip of the iceberg. Shortly after the incident, he had gone on a quest to rescue Vivian, who had been kidnapped by (in her own words) a purple-haired witch. That journey had eventually led here, to Cambodia, where Lowery (for reasons he dared not try to explain) was rooting through an anthill with flaming scraps of helicopter metal crackling around him.

Vivian had left a while ago, heading for the jungle. Lowery didn't blame her: he had screwed up a very important aspect of her life by being a smartass. Nevertheless, he was determined to make things right. He adjusted his glasses and stared down at the crawling ants.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Hm. Probably not. Do ants even have ears?"

A few ants stood up, waving their arms in distress. Only one of them was of concern to Lowery, but he couldn't tell them apart. Scooping them up in a pile of dirt, he separated the distressed ants from the rest of the colony. They scrambled around frantically. Clearing his throat, Lowery leaned forward and spoke to them.

"Alright. If you can understand me, stand up on your hind legs."

A few of them obeyed. Lowery rubbed his chin.

"Hm. This is kind of hard."

He pulled a Petri dish out of his pocket.

"Crawl into this, okay?"

He sighed in exasperation as six ants crawled onto the glass.

"Close enough. I'll sort this out when I find Vivian. She'll know what to do."

He trotted across the field and into the jungle. He heard someone sobbing, and wondered if Vivian had secretly left him to cry in private. He waited for the sniffling to subside, then pushed through the foliage.

"Alright, I've narrowed it down to six ants. They keep waving at me, so-"

When Lowery looked up, he saw that Vivian had encountered a large, hybrid dinosaur and a tiny rodent in the forest. Somehow, this all made sense to him.

"Oh . . . Hi, guys. Did Vivian tell you what happened?"

In his heart, Lowery knew that she had, which meant that the two of them also knew how badly he had screwed up. For once, he didn't seem to care. A while back, someone very important had told him that he was very good at what he did. It was an odd time to be remembering this moment, but Lowery couldn't shake the memory, somehow. Maybe he had hit his head too hard when the helicopter crashed. That seemed logical.

But Lowery was inclined to believe that somehow, against all odds, things were going to turn out okay, because as much as he was renowned for screwing up, every once in a while, things went horribly right.

 **The End**


End file.
